


Golden slumbers

by sherlocksmind



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: John Watson’s war nightmares, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Panic Attack, The Beatles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksmind/pseuds/sherlocksmind
Summary: Three months ago Sherlock Holmes returned home after his death, one month ago John Watson left Mary and moved back into Baker Street. Sherlock hasn’t had a good night's sleep sense.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment about this story I wil actually try and finish this one

Sherlock was yanked out of his sleep by the sounds of his best friends screams. He threw off the covers and rushed out of his bedroom and to the stairs.  
“Is he at it again?” Mrs. Hudson's voice came from the floor below.  
“Yes.” Sherlock answered wide awake.  
“Have you got him dear?” She asked and was answered by another “yes” and the sounds of the creaking stairs whining as Sherlock made his way to John’s room.

This was sort of a routine for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson by now. Every night John would wake the whole flat up with his screaming and every night one of them would go up there. Mrs. Hudson only takes over when Sherlock is in such a deep sleep that he never even hears his friends struggles. But this night for some reason was worse than any other night.

As Sherlock got to John’s bedroom door he learned why John’s screams had been more violent tonight, Sherlock could hear his name being shouted. He cautiously pushes open the door as John’s screams continued to grow louder.

“Sherlock!” John pleaded “No please let me through!” “Oh God!”

When Sherlock opened the door the first thing he saw was his friend thrashing around on the floor. He was tangled in his sheets and as Sherlock came closer he could see a layer of sweat covering John’s face. Sherlock’s eyebrows pinched together in sadness at the sight of his friends face, John seemed scared confused and worried all at the same time.  
Sherlock Kneeled down next to his friend and unwrapped his arms from the blanket so that John wouldn’t jerk around so hard. This only allowed for John to be able to reach Sherlock with his fists. Over and over Sherlock was pelted in the chest and face with John’s fists. Sherlock struggled to grab hold of his friends arms which were being thrown into his chest, once he got a hold on John’s hands he wrapped his arms around John’s body restraining his friends arms to his sides. 

John’s screams gradual decreased over the course of thirty minutes. Usually John would have calmed Down by now and Sherlock would be back in his bed but as soon and John’s screams fell silent his body started to violently shake. Sherlock worried that if he just put John back in his bed and left him there John would have a panic attack and end up hyperventilating. So Sherlock unwrapped John’s shaking body from the white sheets and threw them onto the bed. He then slid his long arms underneath John’s body and cradled him. John turned in Sherlock’s arms so that his face was buried in Sherlock’s chest and smiled. Sherlock shuffled onto his knees and pushed himself up struggling a little to get his legs to steady themselves.  
He brought John down the stairs, through the flat and into his bedroom. He laid John onto his bed and wrapped him in his covers, Sherlock then went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and a cold flannel and brought it to the room. He placed the water and the flannel on to the table and crawled into bed with John and propped his head on his hand. Sherlock reached over Johns shaking body to grab the flannel and placed it on top of John’s sweaty head, they stayed like that until John’s body slowed to a shiver every now and then. Sherlock placed the flannel back on the bedside table and rolled over to face away from John, a minute later John started shaking again, Sherlock rolled over and placed his arm across John’s hip and pulled John’s head to his chest. John melted in Sherlock’s arms and once again stopped shaking. The night was peaceful once again.


	2. Brown box

By the time the morning sun had leaked through Sherlock’s eyelids and dragged him out of his dreams John had gotten up and gone to work. John was gone for the whole day so Sherlock had busied himself with an experiment that ended with the toaster oven being thrown out the window. John returned from his hard day at work with his and Sherlock’s favorite Chinese takeout in hand. After John had yelled at Sherlock for the loss of their toaster oven John went upstairs to his room got out his favorite record and brought it down to the living room.

“Sherlock, didn’t you have an old record player down here?” John asked fairly certain that Sherlock had destroyed it in the midst of one of his experiments.

Sherlock looked up and went to his bedroom, moments later he came out with a old wooden record player. John set down his record on his chair and rushed over to help his friend carry the heavy box to the coffee table. Sherlock opened it to reveal a Frank Sinatra vinyl.

“Classy.” John said as he carefully picked it up and handed it to Sherlock.

“Well mummy would only allow us to buy ‘sensible’ records,” Sherlock walked into his bedroom and put the record back into its cover then carried on the conversation shouting out the door to John in the living room. “which unfortunately meant we could only buy music that they listened to.” 

“They wouldn’t like any of mine then.” John chuckled and put the needle onto the record.

Sherlock could hear the opening of Come Together by The Beatles fill the flat. Sherlock smiled, tucked away his Sinatra record back with his other 60’s style records and went to the living room . 

When Sherlock returned to the kitchen he was surprised to see that John had cleaned off the table, placed the food out and poured some cheap wine that he pulled out of the cabinets.

“You’ve outdone yourself Watson, what’s the occasion?”

“No reason.” John said as he slightly bounced to the beat of the song playing.

‘He say one and one and one is three Got to be good looking 'Cause he's so hard to see Come together right now Over me’

The two sat and ate as the record played on, John glanced up at Sherlock every so often to see if he was enjoying the songs that played. Sherlock never disappointed.  
Once the song ‘Maxwell's Silver Hammer’ came on the two could do nothing but sing and bounce along in their seats.  
“BANG BANG MAXWELL’S SILVER HAMMER CAME DOWN UPON HIS HEAD!” The both sang at the top of their lungs holding their glasses of wine in the air and swishing them around to the music like a cupple of Pirates.

“Oi, I thought that mummy wouldn’t let you listen to this sort of stuff.” John laughed as he poured his third glass of wine.

“Oh for god sakes John, I had a job at the record shop on the corner. I know this whole record by heart.” Sherlock said getting up and going to the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of whisky. “What do you say?” Sherlock gestured the bottle towards John.

John grabbed the half filled bottle and brought it up to his lips and took a mouthful of it. Sherlock followed in pursuit they cleared their throat at the same time.

John got up flipped the record and headed to sit on the couch with the bottle. Sherlock sat next to him and looked up towards the ceiling, John did the same. They sat there the whole night listening to the music and passing the bottle between the two of them. By the time the record had played to the end John was a sleep and Sherlock was completely drunk.

Sherlock got up took the bottle from John and stumbled to the kitchen table and placed the bottle on it. He then stumbled into his room and flopped down onto his bed with his face buried in his pillow. An hour later John woke up and decided that there was no way he could walk up the stairs in the condition he was in so he stumbled into Sherlock’s bed and crawled underneath the covers. Sherlock was so out cold that he hadn’t even noticed John pick his own legs up and slid his underneath his.


	3. Abruptly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh how it has been so long

Both of the men were hungover by morning, when John woke up he jumped out of the bed, ran to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. When Sherlock woke he had the bitter taste of last night's whiskey clawing at his tongue sending Sherlock running to the bathroom as well.

“Why the hell did I think that was going to end well?” Sherlock said as he frantically put toothpaste onto his toothbrush and shoved it into his mouth.

John leaned back for the toilet and started to laugh.

“What?” Sherlock said looking down at him with froth and his toothbrush still in his mouth.

John looked up at him and kept laughing which caused Sherlock to start a low chuckle too. Sherlock spat into the sink and sank down onto the floor next to John still laughing.

After a while John finally gathered himself up and spoke “what is our life? We are such mad men.” John said and then immediately started laughing again.

Sherlock knew exactly what John had meant so he laughed along. 

The two men got up and left the bathroom and carried on with their morning it was a Saturday which meant that unless a case came their way they had absolutely no plans. One never came up, Sherlock spent all day rotating from his mind palace to a random experiment about how finger knuckles were different than toe knuckles. And John spent the day updating his blog and responding to his emails.

The flat was completely quiet, completely and utterly quiet and Sherlock couldn’t take it, so as he was marking down the flexibility of a toe he started to Hum ‘here comes the sun’ John immediately recognized the song and started singing along. 

They sang till four O’clock in the morning Just as they had stopped singing Sherlock’s phone started to buzz Sherlock sighed, put down the severed big toe and thumb that he was comparing and picked up his phone. A smile spread across Sherlock’s face as he scrolled through texts from lestrade. He looked up at John who was typing on his computer not paying any attention to him, Sherlock yelled, “We’ve got one!!”

The sudden boom of Sherlock’s voice cutting through the silence of the flat startled John sending a shock through his spine causing him to jolt up straight. John’s fists also flew up in a fighting position because of the fight rather than flight method he learned from the days in the army. John’s mind buffered for a moment before he knew what was actually going on.

“A case?” John said looking at Sherlock 

Sherlock looked at John with a child like excitement and raised his eyebrows and quickly nodded his head.

“Well then,” John said closing his laptop and shuffling to go to the door “shall we Mr. Holmes?” John said with a smirk.

Sherlock chuckled, jumped up and flipped on his coat running out the door. “The game is on Watson.”

~~~

“Thanks for coming.” Lestrade said as Sherlock and John pushed past the cops that lined the corridor which lead to the crime scene. 

 

It was four O’clock in the morning and and the boys found themselves standing in a abandoned house surrounded by cops. 

“Well what do you expect when you text me at four O’clock in the morning saying there’s been a brutal murder’? Though you did fail to speculate where this Murder took place.” Sherlock’s annoyance was written plain and simple across his face and in his voice.

“You didn’t ask.” Lestrade responded as he guided Sherlock to a room at the end of the corridor.

“Slow week captain?” John said trying to lighten the mood that Sherlock had brought on.

“Slow month actually, what’s his problem?”

“The cabbie recognized our famous detective friend and began asking him,” John stood up straight and did his best Sherlock impression “incredibly ignorant questions that makes the world even less bearable to live in just by the fact that those questions have been breathed into its atmosphere.” 

Lestrade chuckled, “He really said that? Christ.”

Sherlock coughed loudly gaining Lestrade’s attention “Is it through here?”

“Hum? Oh yes but I have to warn you it’s pretty disturb-“

 

Before Lestrade could finish his sentence Sherlock had rolled his eyes and push the door open.

The first thing that Sherlock’s mind processed was the foul smell of rotting flesh that caused the three men to jump back, covering their faces with the fabric of their shirt. The second thing was the victim, or what was left of the victim. The body was in such a poor condition that to the untrained eye the bits and peace’s of human that were scattered all around the room were simply unidentifiable. But not to Sherlock Holmes.

“Male judging from that piece ace and that piece.” 

Sherlock stated as his long bony finger directed John and Lestrade’s attention to two bits of human on two different sides of the room.

Before Sherlock could make his next deduction Lestrade pulled a officer from outside the door into the room. Lestrade handed him a glove and a bunch of evidence bags then told the officer to collect all the peace’s that Sherlock points out and label them.

By the time Sherlock had finished all the evidence bags were filled and labeled, but Sherlock was on a roll so he started to deduce everyone in the room. Starting with Lestrade then moving to John and finally to the young man. The officer, who was already on edge about Sherlock, he was not going to let Sherlock deduct his whole life and get away with it.

“-And that’s why you left them.” 

As Sherlock reached the end of his deduction Lestrade could see the the young officers face turnbright red with anger. John could also see that the younger officer was a potential threat so he subtly moved so that his body was between Sherlock and the officer.

“You fucking prick!” The officer erupted into a yelling-fit.

“You absolute freak, they drag me here at three O’clock in the morning on my first day and make me stand and wait for this ‘amazing detective’! Then when you get here I have to spend 2 hours in a hot and smelly room picking up bits of human and sorting them into fucking bags! And if that’s not bad enough you fucking examine my whole shitty life and retell it to me!”

Sherlock stood there incredibly amused at the copper that was bouncing around in front of him yelling. Lestrade, however, was not as amused because he knew that this officer could rip Sherlock apart if he wanted to, and so did the officer.

The man raised his fist up and took a swig at Sherlock, he missed the detectives face completely and hit John instead. John had anticipated the punch sense the start of the argument so as soon as the officers fist had come into contact with his jaw John’s own fist immediately shot up and was driven into the center of the guys nose. The two jumped on eachother and ended up on the floor both trying to knock the other unconscious.

It took most of the police officers on the scene to break up the fight and drag the two men apart. Sherlock and Lestrade had managed to grab hold of John’s waist and pull him back. John started clawing at the arms around him to try and get free but Sherlock and Lestrade wouldn’t allow him to. The other officer was finally dragged out of the room screaming and yelling. Lestrade let go of John and shut the door.

“John! John! Look at me!” Sherlock shouted over John’s threats, he grabbed John’s bloody face and turned him so that they were looking into eachothers eyes. Sherlock was truly frightening by what he saw, when he looked into John’s eyes he could see that they had glossed over with anger and fright. Sherlock realize what had just happened, John had a flashback it wasn’t caused by the fight but caused buy Lestrade and Sherlock holding him back, just like how the people held John back from Sherlock’s body.

“What did you see John? Was it me? John?”

Tears started to fill John’s eyes as they returned back to normal. John brought his hands to Sherlock’s face and questioned, “Sherlock?”

Sherlock could do nothing but hold John and let him know that it was alright and he was here.

When Sherlock had felt that he was able to support John he hooked his arms under John’s armpits and helped him up. A bloody bruised and exhausted John limped out of the crime scene leaning all his weight onto Sherlock the two got into a cab that Lestrade had flagged down for them and the cab drove to Baker Street.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sksksk I didn’t realize this chapter was this short

By the time that they got to Baker Street John could barely hold himself up, Sherlock supported a limping John up the stairs and to the couch in the flat. Sherlock took a step back Examining his friend then went to the bathroom to grab a med kit.

When Sherlock came back he kneeled down next to John and unpacked the kit.

“Who won?” John asked Sherlock and he started cleaning up the cuts.

“It’s hard to tell.”

John laid his head back and laughed. “How bad is it?”

“Welp, Mr. Watson,” Sherlock said as he steadyed himself to treat John’s split eyebrow. “You’ve got a cupple of bruises, a scrape that ripped open the knee of your jeans, your right eye is closed up and you have a split in your eyebrow.”

John looked up at Sherlock through his one good eye and pouted, “Aww my jeans, I loved these jeans. Sherlock Holmes the shit I do for you.” 

Sherlock smiled over John as he studied his eyebrow. And at that moment John became lost in Sherlock’s gray eyes, he became lost in the fact that he could feel Sherlock’s berth across his face. When John left Mary he had finally excepted his sexuality, he had always known that he was bi, but besides his male lovers no one knew the truth . When John left Mary he had finally admitted to him self that he loved Sherlock, but you wouldn’t catch him dead telling Sherlock. Nevertheless, John allowed his mind to wonder, to fantasize.

John was so absorbed in Sherlock’s closeness that he didn’t register the pain that came when Sherlock was stitching up his eyebrow. 

“There!” Sherlock said as he finished treating John’s eyebrow. He slapped John’s knees in celebration and pulled John out of his fantasy. 

Sherlock packed up the kit and set it on the coffee table, he helped John settle his body so that he was laying across the couch. Sherlock then walked over to the record player and dropped the needle on a random song. 

‘Because the world is round it turns me on  
Because the world is round, ah’

John chuckled as he closed his eyes “In Uni me and my mates called this the high song.”

Sherlock walked over the the couch and sat on the floor leaning his head back against John’s leg. “Why is that?”

“Well you don’t need much of an imagination to figure it out, we would get high to this song, one time,” John laid his hand on Sherlock’s head and began fiddling with his curls. “We got caught by one of the headmasters, he asked us why we thought that getting high was a smart thing to do and we all answered simultaneously with ‘because’.”

‘Because the wind is high it blows my mind  
Because the wind is high, ah’

Sherlock slid his hand under the couch and pulled out a cigarette and a matchbox, he dangled the cigarette between his lips and lit it. Taking a long drag of the cigarette he blew the smoke straight up. “Do you want a trip down memory lane? It’s not weed but ‘I’tll du, ey?’”

‘Love is old, love is new’

“What an accent.” John teased as he took a drag and sang out the smoke to the song. “Love is all, love is you.”

Sherlock knew better then to take those words to heart but he just couldn’t help himself. He wished that the lyrics John sang didn’t mean anything, he wished that the feeling of John’s fingers moving through his hair didn’t mean a thing.

But it means the world to him.


	5. I want you

The two somehow ended up dancing around the living room with their eyes closed and the record playing Octopus’s garden.

‘I'd like to be under the sea  
In an octopus' garden in the shade  
He'd let us in, knows where we've been  
In his octopus' garden in the shade’.

Neither of them knew who restarted the record player but they didn’t care they only cared about here and now.

Sherlock felt like he was floating, when he spoke his voice would echo all around him and when John looked at him he would see the world in Technicolor.

Sherlock didn’t notice when John had stopped dancing. just to look at Sherlock, he watched as Sherlock’s body jumped to the beat, his curls hung and bounced with his body. He watched him and thought he was the most beautiful thing on god's green earth. John had done a lot of thinking when Sherlock “died” he thought about Sherlock, he thought about his relationship and how it should have been different. 

The song changed, John snapped out of his trance and immediately fell into another as Sherlock changed the way his body moved to the song ‘I Want You’. Sherlock started dancing with his hips flowing from side to side, his arms raised in the air to John he was the most seductive man in the world. The song played: 

‘I want you  
I want you so bad  
I want you  
I want you so bad  
It's driving me mad  
It's driving me mad’

John was under Sherlock’s spell, when Sherlock finally opened his eyes he peered up at John through his eyebrows and noticed his lust filled eyes. Sherlock started dancing towards John with a seductive flow to his movements. Sherlock pushed John down onto the couch and straddled John’s legs, John slid his hands up Sherlock’s body exposing the smooth skin underneath his purple button down. Sherlock kept his eyes closed as he still danced to the music. When Sherlock opened his eyes again to look down at John he was meant with a gaze he had never seen before, he didn’t know what it was but his wonders were put to rest as John spoke.

He said “I adore you Mr. Holmes.” In a low growl that Sherlock had never heard before.

Sherlock got closer to John placed a hand on the back of John’s neck and brought their lips as close as possible. When Sherlock mouthed the words their lips would brush over one another.

John couldn’t take Sherlock’s teas any longer so he grabbed Sherlock’s back and pulled him into a kiss John placed his hands on Sherlock’s face pushing their lips together. The urge to touch washed over the two.

John’s hands trailed downwards towards Sherlock’s arse, Sherlock pulled himself up onto John wrapping his legs around John’s hips. John broke the kiss to reviled his lust filled eyes. Sherlock knew that he was in his control now. 

Then it all disappeared.

Sherlock’s head flew back causing him to wake up. John had moved his leg out from underneath Sherlock’s head eliminating Sherlock’s only support. Sherlock sat up and took a minute to figure out what had and hadn’t happened the time was three in the morning Sherlock stood up still half asleep and rubbed his eyes. He looked at John curled up on the couch and felt a pit open in his stomach. Sherlock wanted his dream to be real he’d wanted so much for it to be true that he would give anything. But, it wasn’t true it would never be so, as if a man like John could ever love a man like him. 

Sherlock leaned down an hooked his arms under John’s body and lifted him up. He took John to his bedroom knowing that it was impossible for him to carry John up the stairs and not fall flat on his face. Sherlock tucked John in and settled himself in, but instead of Sherlock retreating to the other side of the bed as far away from John as possible he rested his head on John’s chest and placed his arm across his body. 

Sherlock didn’t expect John to react at all, if anything he expected him to push him away but John’s arm wrapped around Sherlock and squeezed him. Sherlock panicked, does he know who I am? does he think I’m some girl? Sherlock’s questions were answered by a simple mumble from John.

“G’night sherly.”


	6. Did he?

When Sherlock woke he was greeted by John’s swollen face pressed on the pillow with drool streaming down his face, John had ended up tucking his arms underneath himself in his sleep and flipping half of his body over so that he was facing Sherlock but his legs where away from him. His usually neatly combed back hair had fallen into his face, the sun that peeked through the curtains caught John’s hair in just the right way that his gray locks looked as though they were glowing. 

Sherlock couldn’t help but marvel at his beauty.

“Is it really that bad?” John said in a growl of a morning voice.

“I thought you were asleep, I wouldn’t have-” Sherlock scrambled for an explanation to why he was looking at John. 

“It’s all right.” John said as he shuffled to sit himself up. John let out a grown as he pushed himself upward, he was still sore from the incident last night.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and checked his phone to see if Lestrade had texted. He sighed and threw his phone over his shoulder onto the bed.

“Oi, What is it?”

“They found the murder, and they gave the cop that fought you community service.”

“Why are you mad then?” 

“He needs to be locked up.”

John started to laugh but immediately whimpered and grabbed his side.

“You alright?” Sherlock asked peering over his shoulder.

“I’m fine mother hen.” John said as he struggled to push himself off the bed.

“If you say so, you old cock.” 

John managed to get up and steady himself he walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

Sherlock had tried his hardest to show as little concern as possible, he imagined that he managed it but he truly couldn’t tell. 

Sherlock check his phone for the time, it was ten o’clock. Before he went undercover to destroy Moriarty’s web he hardly ever needed sleep, but when he was captured the only time he ever got to sleep was when he passed out from the pain. He has accepted that his body was trying to regain everything that it had lost over the two years of capture. He didn’t like thinking about the lonely years away from Baker Street, away from John. When Sherlock came home Mycroft forced him to be fully examined by every sort of doctor in London. Most of them told Sherlock that he needed to keep his body movement to a dormant state for at least a year, but the therapist is the person who he remembers and hates the most. 

She told him that regardless of how hard he tries to fight it, the memories and trauma will constantly be present. She told him that no matter what he does he couldn’t run away from the trauma that has been inflicted upon him. But he was Sherlock Holmes, so watch him bloody well try.

Sherlock got up from the bed and quickly moved towards the front room. Sherlock reached under the couch and pulled out a wooden box, what he was about to do he had to do quickly because John would be out of the bathroom soon. Sherlock opened the box gazing at the small bag of powder and a syringe which lay neatly on a piece of velvet cloth. 

Sherlock’s ears twitch as he heard John unlocking the lavatory door he looked down and contemplated on whether or not to take the contents of the box. His time was up Sherlock close the box quickly a slid it back underneath the couch.

“Hey Sherlock do you know where you put my-” John paused as he briefly caught a glimpse of Sherlock scrambling to hide the box. “Am I interrupting something?”

“What? No why would you think that?” Sherlock was quick to respond.

“Umm… well, never mind, what are you doing?”

Sherlock walked to the coat rack and grabbed his jacket “I’m just going to go out,” Sherlock walked towards John whilst pushing his arms through the sleeves of his coat “I’m going to pick up some body parts at the morgue.” He stood right in front of John.

“Sherlock,” John said looking up at the tall man and grasping his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Sherlock shrugged off John’s arm “You’re asking me that? Have you seen you? Your face is a swollen black and blue mess.”

John’s stitched eyebrow flew up in a questioning look.

“I’m fine.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and left the flat.


	7. I need a fix ‘cause I’m going down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give me your thoughts anything  
> (Expect for editing bc it’s already done)
> 
> Graphic content

Sherlock found himself in a dimly lit room old soiled mattresses laid in a line along all three and a half walls. The state of everything in the room was deteriorating, the walls were rotten, the floorboards were rarely whole and the windows where shards littered on the floor.

Sherlock had been there for a week, he was an addict, he was alone in the world even Bill Wiggins had moved on. Sherlock turned up at Mycroft’s door step one night asking for money Mycroft, instead, offered him food which ended in an argument between the two. Sherlock never returned.

Sherlock was overwhelmed with the flashbacks he used to be a machine, he was the impossible man and now he’s a broken shell of a man. He was done he injected his arm with a syringe filled to the brim with heroin as the drugs coursed through his veins he let out a moan, threw his head back and let the drug take his mind.

‘She's not a girl who misses much  
Do do do do do do, oh yeah  
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand like a lizard on a window pane.  
The man in the crowd with the multi-colored mirrors on his hobnail boots.  
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy working overtime.  
A soap impression of his wife which he ate and donated to the National Trust.  
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down  
Down to the bits that I left uptown  
I need a fix 'cause I'm going down  
Mother Superior jump the gun  
Mother Superior jump the gun  
Mother Superior jump the gun  
Mother Superior jump the gun  
Happiness is a warm gun  
Happiness is a warm gun, mama  
When I hold you in my arms  
And I feel my finger on your trigger  
I know nobody can do me no harm  
Because, is a warm gun, mama  
Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is  
Happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun  
Happiness  
Well don't you know that happiness is a warm gun.’

When Sherlock woke his head was fuzzy, a high pitched ring accompanied a distant voice that echoed around him. Sherlock didn’t have a clue where he was his vision was blank he felt as if he was in a freezer, he was cold but also sweating. As Sherlock’s vision started to come back so did his hearing. A figure of a man started to come into view, the man was yelling at Sherlock, screaming in fact. Sherlock couldn’t do anything to register his surroundings until he had fully recovered so he blankly stared at the screaming man.

Pretty soon Sherlock saw a metal table with all to familiar torture devices laying upon it, the walls of a boggy cell also became noticed along with a blood stained floor in which his feet barely touched. He was dangling for the ceiling bound by rusty chains wrapped around his wrist a single beam of light shown over his shoulder from a hole in the cell wall. 

Before Sherlock could even attempt to break free a blow was delivered to his ribs by the screaming man with a led pipe another hit was administered to the other side of his body without hesitation. Blood started to leak over Sherlock’s lips and onto the floor one after another the hits were delivered until he was on the edge of passing out from the pain. The shouting man changed his tactics, but it was a tactic that Sherlock didn’t understand. The man pulled up a metal chair, sat down and turned on the TV. Sherlock didn’t understand what the man was doing until an hour later when Sherlock started to shake violently is forearm started to itch and he began to throw up, he was going through withdrawals. The man in the metal chair turned his chair towards sherlock and watched as he went through hell. 

“Чуо сам да сте некада давно били овисник”  
“I heard you were an addict once upon a time.”

Sherlock looked up too tired and too weak to talk.

“Ваш брат би био веома разочаран што сте га покупили, зар не?”  
“Your brother would be very disappointed that you picked it back up, no?”

Then the man laughed and pulled out a rusty syringe with a bag of white powdered and a spoon. Sherlock watched in a cold sweat as the man slowly poured the powder onto the spoon and lit a match underneath it. The man got up halfway through the process and threw the lit match at Sherlock’s feet. He walked over to the metal table and grabbed a belt, and wrapped it tightly around Sherlock’s arm cutting off the circulation. The man the went back to his metal chair changed the channel and started the process back up. 

“погледај свог пријатеља на телевизији!”  
“Look your friend is on the telly!”

Sherlock shook as he brought his head up to look at the small television in the corner of the room. It was a security tape of the flat Sherlock’s flat back in London his eyes focused in a lump curled up on his chair clutching a pillow. It was John and he was crying it started as a wimpier and grew into a yell a loud and furious yell crying out to Sherlock.

“How! How could you do this to me! How could you leave me hear!” John stood up and trembled to the window. He stood there with an object in his hand which was impossible to make out due to the poor picture. 

Sherlock hadn’t noticed that the man had walked behind him with the syringe in hand.

Sherlock watched as John brought the object to his head it was then that Sherlock realized John had a gun. Sherlock’s eyes widened as he heard John mumble something and then the sound of a gun went off and the T.V. Went black. Sherlock started kicking and screaming bloody murder he couldn’t believe it he was going to throw up he didn’t care what had happened next he didn’t want to exist. 

Sherlock looked behind him in time to see the Serbians man reach up to his purple arm and inject him with heroin Sherlock’s legs went limp with pleasure and his eyes closed tightly and a moan escaped his mouth. 

“сада ћеш спавати мог пријатеља.”  
“Now you will sleep my friend.”

When Sherlock opened his eyes he saw the man standing there with a baseball bat drawn back over his shoulder Sherlock looked up and said, “фуцк.” “Fuck you.” Then blacked out from the blow to his head.

Sherlock shot up out of his sleep in a cold sweat he tried to get his breath back as he noticed he was back in the deteriorating room with a needle in his arm. Sherlock pulled the syringe out of his arm. He stumbled whilst launching himself up and out of the building. With a hand over his forearm he started to run back to Baker Street.


	8. This is the damage of Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you sleep? By John Lennon

It was 1 O’clock by the time Sherlock had finally reached the steps of 221B the felt faint and light. His hands stumbled around in his pockets looking for the keys no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t find them. Sherlock started to panic, he didn’t know why all he had to do was knock on the door, but he didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He had grown a sad excuse for a beard he was so skinny that if he had looked at himself long enough he would start to wonder if he was still alive. Sherlock could feel himself start to blackout he could either run away and hide until the morning or he could just knock.

He raised his fist and managed one big thump before he went limp and came crashing down on the steps of 221B.

“Oh, dear!” 

Sherlock’s mind was drifting in and out of consciousness. 

“Sherlock? Are you- oh”

“Come on I’m too old to pick you up you need to stand.”

Rough seas rocked back and forth over his eyes 

“Bathroom? Yes? Oh ok.”

“Sherly you left him and now look.”

Nothing.

“Sherloooock!!”

Sherlock shot up from the tile floor of Mis. Hudson’s bathroom, he could hear him screaming it was John. Sherlock grabbed the toilet and the sink, he used what little strength he had left to pull himself to his feet and towards John’s screams. Sherlock stumble out of Mis. Hudson’s flat and to the stairs. He took a big breath and started to climb the stairs, his fingers clawed at the railing as he pulled himself up the steps. 

“SHERLOCK!” John called out but Sherlock could hear another voice with John’s, it was Mis. Hudson’s she sounded so scared so panicked.

“John, John I’m here Please wake up.”she pleaded.

Sherlock heard John take in a sharp breath and then the hollow screaming turned into a scared wimpier.

“Sherlock, no. How could he do this to me? Oh god Mis. Hudson. Why did he go?” Sherlock’s heart sank as he heard John began to weep. 

Sherlock lowered himself onto the steps he brought his knees up to his chest and put his head in his hands then started to cry. 

This was the damage of Sherlock Holmes.

Once John stopped crying Mis. Hudson stepped out of the room and onto the stairs where she sat next to Sherlock. Sherlock had begun to shake violently “I’m so sorry.” He let out a wimpier.

“He’s fine.” Mis. Hudson said as she wrapped Sherlock in her arms. “Do you need help down the stairs?” 

“I’m fine here.”

“Alright.” She gave him one last pat on his should then stood up and went into her flat.

Sherlock gathered himself and went into his flat and to his room, there was clear evidence that John had been sleeping in his bed. Sherlock didn’t was to think about John sleeping in his bed on cold nights with the hope that Sherlock would be there when he woke up. 

Sherlock went into his bathroom and cleaned himself up he took a shower and shaved his beard then went to bed.

—-

‘So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise  
You better see right through that mother's eyes’

Sherlock woke to the whole floor rumbling from the base of the song had put on the record player. Sherlock walk to the living area and saw John standing there.

‘Those freaks was right when they said you was dead  
The one mistake you made was in your head’

Sherlock gazed in awe as he listened to the lyrics of the song John’s face seemed to change with the words a hard expression of “fuck you” slid on and off his face.

‘Ah, how do you sleep  
Ah, how do you sleep at night’

Sherlock walked forward with blind excitement to see John.

John stepped back in return.

‘You live with straights who tell you, you was king  
Jump when your momma tell you anything  
The only thing you done was yesterday  
And since you're gone you're just another day  
Ah, how do you sleep  
Ah, how do you sleep at night’

The song wrapped a cold iron fist around Sherlock’s heart he didn’t know if he wanted to throw up form John’s stare or collapse to his knees and cry.

‘Ah, how do you sleep  
Ah, how do you sleep at night’

John said nothing to Sherlock and he turned and left without warning leaving Sherlock to listen to the rest of the song alone. Sherlock could have gone after him he could have turned off the song but he didn't, he felt like he deserved this he did deserve this.


	9. Pleas don’t be long

John was running, like his life depended on it though he couldn’t remember why he was running. The brick walls of a dark alleyway stretch high above his head and into the starry night sky. The alley was pitch black other than the small amount of light that illuminated from the sky. 

‘There's a fog upon L.A.  
And my friends have lost their way’

As John’s eyes begin to get used to the lack of light they started to focus on a figure that slouched against the wall. John suspected that it was just a bundle of black trash bags but as he ran closer he could make out a human. John got to the body he collapsed to his knees and tried his hardest to work with what little light he had, he couldn’t find a head. 

‘We'll be over soon they said’

John found his way around the body he could make out its arms, its legs and its face; Sherlock’s face.

‘Now they've lost themselves instead’

Sherlock’s face was white with foam around his mouth, his eyes were glazed over and looking straight through John, to him John wasn’t there. John had pulled a bloody syringe out of Sherlock’s arm he could feel all the scars that had been made by previous uses.

John checked Sherlock’s pulse, was too fast.

“Sherlock? Hey, Sherlock? Fucking answer me you bastard!” John slapped Sherlock’s face his only response was Sherlock’s head slightly moving back into position. John pulled out his phone and called Lestrade. 

‘Please don’t be long,  
Please don’t you be very long’

“Sherlock, it’s me, Please. Sherlock answer me!” John began to cry, Sherlock’s blank stare brought back a bloody memory which made John feel alone it caused his heart to ache and his body to shiver.

‘Please don't be long  
Or I may be asleep’

Sherlock’s eyes shot open as he violently flew forward crumbling to his hands and knees and began to throw up. 

John frantically grabbed Sherlock’s shoulders to let him know he was there. Sherlock began to rip off his own jacket he frantically searched for the opening John pulled the jacket off and threw it aside. When he looked back he saw Sherlock violently smash his face on the concrete.

‘Well, it only goes to show  
And I told them where to go’

John tried to run to him but his legs wouldn’t move he could hear the sirens in the background. John stood there as his friend drove his head over and over into the concrete.

‘Ask a policeman on the street  
There's so many there to meet’

The paramedics arrived they split into two groups: two went to Sherlock and the other two dragged John down the alley John begged and pleaded with the men pulling “he’s my friend let me through!” 

John looked up on top of the buildings in time to see Sherlock fall off of it John screamed bloody murder and broke free. 

‘Please don't be long (don't be long)  
Please don't you be very long (don't be long)’

John’s eyes flashed open as Mrs. Hudson shook him awake. “He’s back” she said and then walked away. The images of Sherlock smashing his face into the ground and falling off the building still swam John’s mind. John’s emotions ran of the chain, he was mad happy but all of his emotions were drowned out by his feeling of being betrayed. 

‘Please don't be long  
Or I may be asleep’

John began to shift through his albums found John Lennon’s imagine and began to play track 8.


End file.
